


Oh, Joy.

by newpolicy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, One Shot, tw: alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 02:52:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10755216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newpolicy/pseuds/newpolicy
Summary: "Whoever or whatever was to blame, the fact remained that Lily effectively set her entire life alight on that fateful night, deep in the depths of what was quite possibly the grottiest pub on their side of the river.And the most startling thing of all was that she didn’t really mind all that much."It was the evils of French that pushed her to do it - there was truly no other explanation as to why Lily Evans and James Potter ended up in close proximity - where neither one of them looked close to throwing punches.





	Oh, Joy.

**Author's Note:**

> welcome, welcome - and thank you for reading! I'm an old-hand at writing Jily, but a relative newbie when it comes to archiveofourown, so please be kind - and enjoy of course!

It was just more wholly unnecessary, but utterly definite proof that French really, truly was the Satan of all subjects. Of course, the events of that atomic disaster of a night could also have been blamed upon her _liberal_ alcohol consumption, or even indeed on the disloyalty of her so-called friends - but their final term together ended in less than two months, and Lily was rendered too emotionally fragile at the thought of having to leave them to truly be angry with any of them.

That and the fact that blaming them for what transpired that night was probably entirely irrational, given that her actions just so happened to be of her own doing – alcohol or no alcohol. 

Whoever or whatever was to blame, the fact remained that Lily effectively set her entire life alight on that fateful night, deep in the depths of what was quite possibly the grottiest pub on their side of the river.

And the most startling thing of all was that she didn’t really mind all that much.

~

Tally: Lily – 05 || James – 03 

“Oi – prick-face,” she all but shouted, moving through the crowd with the grace of a mobile armoire. The prick-in-question’s eyebrows raised inquisitively at her greeting.

“Have pigs started flying, Evans? Or did you just voluntarily acknowledge my presence?”

Lily’s scowl deepened at the slow smirk which unfurled across his face.

It was more out of a stubborn resilience that she didn’t allow herself to fall at the feet of James Potter. She wasn’t blind - contrary to the popular public opinion - she just wasn’t bloody interested. She recognised a good-looking bloke when she saw one, and she could appreciate what Mother Nature had done for him over the course of puberty, but she was strictly monogamous, and entering a relationship with both James and his over-inflated ego was not something she would ever willingly inflict upon herself. 

Of course, this resilience didn’t factor in the five-or-so shots she had taken in the interim between arriving at the pub and encountering her current sparring partner, and James’ smirk only increased in size and in smugness as her hand shot out to grab his shoulder as a means of stabilising herself. 

“It seems not only pigs. Acknowledgement and touching? My, my Evans. Forward little minx, aren’t you?”

“Shut your mouth before you find my fist in it,” she grumbled, removing her hand from his shirt as if burned.

“You’ll need to take me on a date first.” He winked, causing her to roll her eyes.

“It this the famous Potter charm I’ve heard so much about?” she scoffed “Because I’ve got to admit, I’m underwhelmed.”

“Oh trust me, Ginge. I haven’t even started trying to charm you.” 

A very unladylike grunt emitted from somewhere at the back of her throat “Ginge? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“You used to threaten to dismember my bodily appendages every time I called you Ginge, remember?” he reminded her almost fondly, a wistful nostalgia in his voice that made her roll her eyes.

“I most certainly didn’t say dismember bodily appen- _whatevers_. I told you I’d tear you limb from limb, you ponce. Don’t misquote me or I’ll sue-”

“God Evans, you’re really not holding back, are you?” he laughed “Usually you at least try and make an effort to begin pleasantly before breaking out the violent threats. You’re hurting my fweelings,” he sniffed, the ever-present smile detracting completely from what was otherwise a stellar performance. 

“You’re infuriating.” She scowled.

“You chose to come talk to me,” he reminded her “Why was that, exactly?”

His eyes seemed to spark with mischief, mouth curling almost impossibly as he watched the slow, embarrassed flush spread across Lily’s cheeks. She could practically see _I’ve got you there_ flashing across his pupils as he regarded her with something in between indulgence and amusement.

Fucking _prick_. Stupid bloody asshole with his stupid smile, and stupid twinkly-flash eyes. Why did people every describe eyes as flashing anyway? They weren’t bloody traffic lights. 

“You’re a very philosophical drunk Evans, quite the little Aristotle,” he mused, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at her “I’ve got to admit, it’s kind of a turn-on.”

“I’m told I’m a truthful one.” She sniffed, trying to suppress the blush threatening to spread across her skin at his… _sexual references_. She wasn’t a prude, but she also didn’t like discussing topics beyond how much of a prat he was when conversing with Potter. It was unnerving to think of him as anything beyond an annoying eleven year old boy.

“As opposed to being a solely violent one? Package-deal you’ve got going on, I see,” he teased, arm reaching out to steady Lily once more as she swayed back and forth on her feet. She batted him away sharply, ignoring the jolt that seemed to course through her body.

“Where’s your harem?” she asked abruptly, diffusing the odd atmosphere which seemed to be descending on them both “I thought you were incapable of functioning without someone hanging off your arm to remind you _oh what big biceps you have, Jamie_ ,” she mocked, scoffing slightly at her own joke.

“My harem?” he snorted. 

“Yes, your harem of women – well, girls.” She self-corrected. She hated the word woman – it was a constant reminder of the impending adulthood freight train that was about to obliterate them all. 

That and referring to the gaggle of giggling nitwits that clung to Potter like the sickly perfume they all wore as _women_ made her head hurt. 

“I wasn’t aware I had a harem at my disposal,” he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Oh sure.” She rolled her eyes “I’m _sure_ you didn’t.” 

“Are you sure I’m sure I didn’t?” 

“Tease me one more time, Potter, and I’ll-” 

“You’ll what, Evans? Stab me with a compass again?” he teased, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“Oh would you let it go. We were twelve, and you wholly deserved it-” 

“Wholly deserved or not, you certainly left me holey.” 

She stared incredulously at him for a minute, as he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, a satisfied smirk on his face. 

“That was single-handedly the worst pun I’ve ever heard in my life.” 

“Then you obviously haven’t spent that much time with Remus.” He grinned. 

“No, I can’t say I have. Because spending time with Remus would mean spending time with you,” she spat, more so out of habit than actual venom. It was a reflex action to _go in for the kill_ whenever Potter provided her with a suitable opening. 

“You’ve spent quite a bit of time on me already,” he reminded her once again. 

“Only because I saw you and got mad.” 

“Really? The mere sight of my face riled you up enough that you felt the need to come over here? Lord, I think I’ve hit a new low.” 

“Yes, how does the world look from the metaphorical shit pit?” 

“About as good as it must look from your throne of self-righteousness, my dear Evans.” 

“Call me my dear one more time and I’ll-” 

“Lose your composure? Let’s be honest here, you haven’t had that for quite a while.” 

“Maybe you’ll find it shoved up your arse – although I highly doubt there’s room, considering you already have your head wedged up there.” 

“Good grief Evans, you’re really not holding back, are you?” he laughed, giving Lily the hazy impression that he probably wasn’t on the same level of intoxication she was. 

And everyone knows that sort of an imbalance in social awareness during a conversation is a recipe for utter disaster. 

“I’m leaving,” she announced. 

“Are you sure you can?” he chuckled, looking dubiously at her heels which were still causing her to pitch at odd angles. 

“You just bloody watch me, Potter-” she snarled, stomping away from him purposely on a one-way track back towards the bar. Her exit probably would have held more drama had she not stumbling not two feet away from him. 

But she would ignore his laughter in lieu of another alcoholic beverage. 

\- 

Tally: Lily – 07 || James – 09 

Two tequila shots and one episode of convincing Marlene that climbing up on the bar was definitely a sure-fire way to get them thrown out, Lily found herself wandering the dance floor, looking for her friends. Often there was a misconception that girls travelled in packs on nights out – and while ultimately that was the goal, it was inevitable that, just as in the wild, every so often the pack would lose a member or four. 

And considering the fact she had just seen someone throw up in a bag that definitely wasn’t theirs, they had most certainly entered the wild. And her shoes were bloody killing her. 

Eyeing the outskirts of the packed dance floor once more, she gave up on her search with a resigned sigh, choosing instead to make a beeline for the row of benches along the western wall so that she could ensure all her toes were indeed still attached to her body. Stumbling up the lone step differentiating the seated area from the manic revelry of the dance floor, she swerved around the enthusiastic couple sucking face and instead plonked down heavily on one of the plush benches that was worryingly sticky against the bare skin of her thigh. 

“Wouldn’t sit there if I were you, Peter just spilt his pint all over the place. Other two took him to the bathroom, absolutely puking up his guts.” 

Her neck snapped to her right upon hearing the voice, her eyes instantly narrowing when she took in the faintly-glowing white shirt, and birds-nest hair. 

“Christ alive, what’re you doing, following me?” she groaned, shooting Potter a dirty look before leaning down to fiddle with the straps of her shoes – which were now positively murdering her poor, innocent toes. 

“And you call me conceited – I’m just sitting,” he replied jovially, his shoulders moving in synchronisation with his voice. 

“Well how about you bugger off and just sit somewhere else-” 

“Well you see, there’s the little fact of I was here first, Evans.” 

“I almost fell on my arse three times making my way from the bar to here,” she said, pointing towards the heaving crowd as if to add further emphasis “You can get fucked if you think I’m the one that’s going to be moving.” 

They were locked in a heated staring contest for a few moments, before Potter eventually conceded and shook his head with a chuckle. 

“Christ, you’re beautiful when you’re angry-” 

“What sort of misogynistic drivel is that, Potter? Am I supposed to flush and quit being angry with you because you’ve complimented me?” 

“On the contrary, I often find myself complimenting you as a way to enrage you further,” he said airily “Well that and the fact it’s startlingly easy to do.” 

“Who says _enrage_ in regular conversation?” she asked, her nose crinkling in disgust. 

“You said drivel.” He shrugged “And I think that’d earn you more points in Scrabble.” 

“Never played Scrabble,” she grumbled. 

“You’d love it, truly. And there’s nothing sexier than spelling.” 

“I’m sorry, did you just say the words sexy and spelling in the same sentence?” 

“Nothing sexier than a bit of spelling. ‘Specially when there’s hidden letters. Like an unexpected striptease.” He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, laughing rumbling deep in his chest at the sight of her displeased scowl. 

“I’m beginning to see why you’re McGonagall’s pet now,” she said, her nose scrunching further. 

“I absolutely am not.” 

“You absolutely are too.” 

He pouted almost petulantly, reaching to spin a bottle in a slow circle on the table in front of them, pointedly avoiding Lily’s smug smirk. 

“Just jealous ‘cause there’s one teacher that likes me more than they like you.” 

“Maybe I am.” 

“I don’t believe there’s any maybe in that sentence, Evans.” He grinned, reaching to tug gently on a lock of her hair 

“Only because there’s no reason for it!” she exclaimed hotly, slapping away his hands indignantly “You always hand up your essays late, you’re constantly skiving off with Sirius in the back of the class-” 

“How do you know I hand up my essays late?” 

“Because it’s you-” 

“Careful there, that sounds awfully like a sweeping generalisation.” 

“Well you never have your shit together for Slughorn.” 

“Well there’s one glaring difference there – I like English. I’m planning on buying my biology book off the school so I can ceremoniously burn it after graduation,” he explained, his nose crinkling slightly upon the mere mention of his least-favourite subject. 

“Biology’s easy,” she sniffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

“Not all of us are medical prodigies.” 

“I’m not a _prodigy_ , I work hard,” she emphasised, her lip curling slightly at the insinuation “Everyone who says I do well just because _genetics_ or some shit like that needs to fuck the fuck off-” 

“Alright, alright. Keep your wig on, I’m just saying that I could beat myself around the head with the bio coursework and I still wouldn’t be able to remember what in God’s name half of it means.” 

“Then you aren’t trying hard enough,” she said sharply. “That or you’re just _inept_.” 

He coughed slightly, raising an eyebrow over the brim of his beer bottle before taking another swig “And there we have it, trademark Evans put down. Tell me, what happens if you don’t insult me every five minutes? Do you internally combust?” he asked cooly, causing her to look away in what felt closely linked to shame. 

“Look - I didn’t mean to be rude.” 

“Well, you were,” he replied shortly. 

This was new. Lily wasn’t accustomed to insulted James,- her familiarity lay with _insulting_ him – meaning the now unsmirking, unannoyinng-her being that occupied the seat next to her unnerved her. The silence which descended over them seemed deafening, even though the floor still vibrated underfoot from the jarring techno-bass mash-up disaster the DJ was blaring. 

She huffed slightly, before leaning over to poke his cheek “C’mon Potter, I thought it was physically impossible for me to get you to shut up, don’t break the six-year trend now.” 

“Maybe I’m sick of putting up with your snide comments.” 

“Well – you and I both know that that’s a horrific lie, Potter. And horrific liars go to hell.” 

“Don’t you implore me to take a quick trip to hell on the daily?” 

“I may have occasionally told you to do that, yes,” she conceded rather sheepishly “But that doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t lie.” 

“Hang on - I just used implore, and you’re not going to threaten grievous bodily harm? You must be sorry.” 

“Did I say I was sorry?” 

“You mean you’re not?” 

“Well I – possibly could have been a bit harsh but-” she started difficulty. 

“You’re terrible with apologies, Evans,” he chuckled, but the way his shoulder bumped hers told her she had in fact been forgiven. 

Maybe it was the alcohol, but the contact made her stomach jolt slightly. No – not jolt. Lurch. Lurch was a verb with much more negative connotations, she couldn’t allow herself to think in the positive. 

Lord knows what would happen _then_. 

She settled for a short “like you’re any better” as a reply. 

“Ah – but you see, very rarely do I ever do anything that I will later feel the need to apologise for.” He held up his finger to silence her before she could interject “And before you jump down my throat about my actions affecting others, doesn’t mean I’m a complete dickhead. Just means usually I try to do things I won’t regret.” 

“Life’s full of regrets.” 

“Not for me, Aristotle.” 

“So there’s not one thing you regret?” 

“Very few things,” he corrected her “I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t regret _anything_.” 

“Well this is rather intriguing – the supreme James Potter admitting to making some mistakes?” she said, her lips curling up into a smile as she fully turned her body to face him “Well – come on. Don’t leave me in suspense, you’ve got to tell me at least one.” 

“I most certainly do not,” he chuckled, leaning his head back so it rested against the wall. 

“C’mon, Potter. Don’t be a wimp.” She reached forwards to prod his chest, tilting her head to match the angle of his. 

“Absolutely not – you’ll laugh.” 

“I’ll laugh anyway, laughing at you is my favourite hobby.” Something horrifically like a giggle bubbled from her lips as she reached to poke him once again. 

“Are you going to keep poking me until you get your way?” 

“Oh you can bet on it-” she promised, her finger tapping out a staccato rhythm on his rib cage. 

“Alright – alright, enough woman!” He laughed, swatting her away “I regret pulling your pigtail on the first day of first year.” 

“Really?” she snorted “Out of everything you’ve ever done in your life? That’s what you pick?” 

“It’s not the only thing, mind you. But - yeah.” He shrugged “You’ve had a set on me ever since then. Probably would have saved a lot of shouting and arguing if I hadn’t.” 

She considered his words for a few seconds, before nodding “Well yeah, probably would’ve. Why did you?” 

“Why did I what?” 

“Pull my hair, dunce.” 

“Because I liked the colour.” 

“Of my hair?” she snorted again. 

“Of your eyes.” 

Lily blinked for a moment, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she waited for any signs of a smirk, or a chuckle to emit from James, but he simply reached forward to pick up his beer bottle once more and take a swig. 

“I don’t find that cute, you know. Lying to try get in a girl’s pants is just pathetic, Potter.” 

“Ah, but liars go to hell, Evans. A wise philosopher once told me so. And I don’t really fancy a trip down below. So that – that was the truth,” he said, the beginnings of what almost looked like a sincere smile unfurling across his lips that seemed to be having an adverse effect on her knees, even though she was sitting down. 

Of course, he had to go and ruin it all by winking. She left promptly after that. 

~ 

Tally: Lily – 08 || James 09.5 

Storming away from James for the second time that night led her on a very similar pathway to the bar, where she stopped just long enough to neck back another much-needed drink before continuing on her not-so merry way to start up the manhunt for her friends once more. 

She eventually located them in the girl’s toilets, resulting either from a tactical ploy on Marlene’s part to scope out the talent remaining in the pub, or Mary’s pea-sized bladder. 

“He’s such a childish, arrogant, _fucking_ -” she forced through her clenched teeth, tearing a piece from the paper towel in her hands aggressively with each word. She was perched on the corner of one of the many sinks which lined the damp walls of the pub’s bathroom, pouting petulantly as she watched Marlene shakily reapply another coat of mascara. 

“I’m sorry – who’re we talking about?” Mary shouted from inside the bathroom stall “What’s happened? Do you need me to fight someone? I’ll need help taking out m’earrings but otherwise I’m ready Lil-” 

“Keep your arse on the toilet, Mary.” Marlene slapped the stall door, causing Mary to shriek “She’s just griping about James again.” 

“Oh – well if that’s all.” 

“No – that is not _all_ , thanks very much,” Lily said hotly, looking up from her shredded piece of tissue to glare at Marlene. 

“But it really is, Lil – you vehemently refuse to snog the boy’s face off, so there’s not very much we can do for you.” Marlene shrugged “Tough tits.” 

“How in God’s name would snogging _anyone’s_ face off solve any problem? Much less this one?” 

“You know, for a smart girl you’re annoyingly stupid,” Marlene sighed, throwing her mascara tube back into her clutch before reaching to grab Lily’s hands “It’s this horrible little thing called sexual tension.” 

“Please remove your hands from my body and stop chatting shit, Marl.” 

“You can deny it all you want, Lil. But the truth of the matter is that you want to play tonsil hockey with James.” 

“No, I sodding well don’t! A girl can hate a boy, you know. It’s not always just hidden feelings – this isn’t some crappy youth novel, this is my life!” 

“Yes, that you seem insistent to live in denial. Look – it doesn’t give me any pleasure to throw you into the deep end like this. But we’re all just sick of hearing about him, okay?” 

“Mary, what the hell has Marlene been drinking, straight bleach?” Lily demanded as soon as the bathroom door unlatched, and Mary emerged. 

“Been very responsible tonight, actually,” Marlene sniffed. 

“Then would you care to explain the origins for this insane theory of yours?” 

“It’s not insane, Lily. You’ve not been exactly subtle about it-” 

“Look – what Marlene’s trying to say is that, well there has been signs, Lil,” Mary admitted awkwardly, reaching around Lily’s head to grab a handful of paper towels “No one’s trying to say you’ve been doodling his name everywhere or anything – but, there’s clearly something. And the longer you make yourself wait, the worse it’s going to get.” 

“Long story short, the tension’s going to make one of you explode,” Marlene supplemented “So get on it, yeah?” 

“Neither of you seem to be understanding that I hate him-” 

“You’re walking a fine line between love and hate on this one, Lil. So will you just do us all a favour and pick a side, yeah?” 

“And meet us on the dance floor if Ed comes on.” Mary grinned, before they linked arms and vacated the bathroom, leaving Lily to brood. 

~ 

Tally: Lily – 09 || James – 11 

Lily stumbled out of the bathroom in what felt like a daze, one which was only partly induced by the alcohol units she had consumed. She pushed her way slowly through the throng that still occupied the bar, her mind whirring at the concept that is wasn’t pure hatred she felt towards James. 

Facultative hatred, certainly. But even the fact that there might be some hint of fondness present had her world spinning completely off-kilter. 

It was nothing more than fate laughing _directly_ in her face that she should then stumble into James. 

“Not you again-” 

“Really, Lily. I don’t think I can deal with any more fighting tonight. M’brains all fuzzy, won’t be able to think of witty things to say to -” 

“Why do you think I hate you?” she asked, cutting over him. 

“Oh, all the regular reasons – you know yourself.” He grinned. 

“But why do _you_ think I hate you?” 

“Will I let you in on a little secret, Lily?” he asked, dipping his head so his lips seemed to hover uncomfortably close to her ear “I have this valiant hope – cursed optimistic nature – that really, deep down, you don’t.” 

And she hated herself for it, but her breath hitched – fucking hitched - getting caught somewhere in her throat before it could exit her body. 

Carbon dioxide poisoning caused people to behave madly, didn’t it? Would certainly explain as to why the hell her eyes seemed fixated on his eyelashes, which she was nearly certain were longer than hers. And usually that would have caused an irrational pit of hatred to bubble, because stupid Potter and his stupid perfect eyelashes. 

But this time it just made her want to know how they’d feel brushing against her cheek. 

“I think my epiglottis is malfunctioning-” 

“How on earth do I find you attractive?” 

“You like my eyes,” she reminded him. 

“God, I do. I really do,” he replied, his mouth curling into a grin, causing Lily’s chin to tilt upwards in response. Her heels were putting out a valiant effort of bridging the rather substantial height difference which usually kept her on par with his shoulder. Potter’s head seemed to duck in response, the space between them rapidly decreasing until – 

A hand suddenly clamped around the back of her neck, and she found herself being shoved towards James, their heads colliding painfully with what most definitely would have been a resounding thump had it not been cancelled out by whatever God-awful house mix the DJ was blasting out. 

Her hands instinctively shot up to cradle her forehead, a groan lost under Potter’s shout of “For fuck sake, Sirius!” 

“Just kiss each other already-” Sirius shouted, his hands making a crude hand gesture towards Lily with a grin that made her want to hit him. 

Having Potter shove him would suffice nicely, however. 

She watched as his mouth moved furiously, his index finger jabbing Sirius’ chest as she watched rather than heard him say “She doesn’t bloody want to.” 

If it hadn’t felt like she had just entered the twilight zone, she probably would have found it funny. The anger evident in the way a red flush was forming on Potter’s neck told her his anger was real, and that he was directing it at Sirius of all people was entirely bizarre. 

That he was getting so het up about Sirius’ interference lay somewhere in between the realm of ridiculous, but also oddly sweet. Potter’s half-arsed efforts at chivalry usually annoyed her beyond all comprehension, but even she could see that he was simply trying to do the right thing. 

Even if what he thought was the right thing was completely and utterly wrong. 

Lily’s eyes continued to dart from the now completely beetroot Potter, to the seemingly mollified Sirius, who had his hands raised in defence. Potter gave his friend one last poke, and a concluding glare before turning back to Lily, an apology written all over his features. 

“Look, Evans – I’m really sorry, Sirius is just a prick and-” 

“Do you make it a habit to make other people’s decisions for them, Potter?” she cut in, archly raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m sorry, what?” His entire expression betrayed complete bewilderment. 

“You just assumed what I wanted to do.” 

“I didn’t – what?” 

“Don’t assume what I want and don’t want to do.” 

“But-” 

She silenced the rest of whatever he wanted to prattle on about by grabbing the front of his shirt and slamming her lips to his. 

Their noses seemed to collide awkwardly as they both turned in different directions, a startled ‘oof’ emitting from Potter which really wasn’t what anyone wanted to hear upon kissing anyone. And in a brief moment of clarity, and perhaps even _sobriety_ , she realised she was standing in the middle of a dance floor which was coated in a black scum, her hands awkwardly knotted in Potter’s slightly-damp t-shirt, his lips seemingly frozen against hers while the bridge of his glasses cut uncomfortably into her cheek. 

A horrible feeling of regret began clawing its way from her stomach to her mouth – Oh God, oh God, oh _fucking God_ , she had read all the signs wrong. This was awful – he’d never let her live it down. Forever, she would be known as the girl who virtually _assaulted_ Potter while he stood there and did nothing. 

Pulling back, she took in the bug-eyed expression of shock on his face, her own cheeks burning bright with embarrassment. Cold reality seemed to rain down upon her with the realisation that he had probably never contemplated, or indeed ever wanted to swap spit with her, and considering their explosive history, had presumed that Lily was on the same wavelength. 

“I’m – I’ve – got to go,” she stuttered, waving vaguely in the direction of the exit door before taking off through the crowd, ignoring his calls for her to wait until she could no longer hear them over the music. 

She weaved her way through the still-writhing masses, pressing the backs of her hands against her cheeks in a vain attempt to cool the fire-pits that had seemingly replaced half of her face. 

She probably could have gotten over the embarrassment of crashing and burning with Potter – after an appropriate amount of dodging him in the remaining weeks of school, and proposing a binding contract to never mention his name again – however it was the fact that she had crashed and burned with Potter with the majority of her class as an audience which was the true problem. There was still six weeks left in school, so really, abandoning her education to move to Ecuador would just be a waste of the last fourteen years of education. 

Plus, she had taken French instead of Spanish. 

A tinny ringing in her ears erupted as soon as she stepped out of the pub, her heels scraping against the cobblestones of the footpath. Bobbing her head to the bouncer, she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to fend off the April chill as she began her slow hobble to the chipper – conveniently located next door. 

“Lily – Christ alive Evans, can you just _wait_ -” 

She made no attempt to stifle the groan that seemed almost a reflex action in response to his voice “Potter – go away, please. I’m begging.” 

“No, I want to talk about whatever what just happened was,” he said determinedly, reaching out as if to grab Lily’s arm, before thinking better of it. 

“Can we just – forget that happened? _Please_?” 

“No – no, well – I mean, yeah because that was terrible-” 

“Well thanks,” she gritted out, embarrassment still colouring her cheeks as she narrowed her eyes to glare at him. 

He started, horror dawning on his face as he processed what he had said “Not – no, _you_ weren’t terrible, _I_ was terrible-“ 

“Yeah – you sodding well were! Why didn’t you kiss me back?” she demanded. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to do that!” 

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you needed a formal letter of notice before someone kissed you, my bloody mistake,” she said, sarcasm dripping from every word. 

“Well sod it, if it’s you kissing me maybe I do!” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means – it means I would’ve been less surprised if you ran me over with a car, Evans,” he sighed. 

“And what’s _that_ supposed to mean?” she asked, growing more and more affronted. 

“It means you – earlier this evening you were threatening to sue me, and then suddenly you’re flirting with me and I got confused!” 

“I never _flirted_ with you-” 

“This is what I’m talking about, Lily! This – the hot and cold thing, I can’t keep up with you. And believe me, I love the fact you’re absolutely mental, I fucking love it because it’s _you_. But - can you at least give me some help in figuring out where I stand with you? Please?” 

Her anger faltered slightly at the desperate plea that seemed to emit from his eyes, his words hanging in the air between them. His eyes seemed to search hers for something, desperation leaving the hazel irises to be replaced by what she remarked looked horribly close to resignation. She stepped towards him, a line appearing between her eyebrows as she scrutinized his eyes – hazel in colour, and slightly too small for his face behind the frames of his glasses. 

“Your eyes aren’t brown,” she said almost stupidly, blinking up at him. “I’d always thought they were brown.” 

His heavy sigh sent hot air rushing across her cheeks, the scent of beer and stale chewing gum enveloping her. 

“I think you need to go home, Evans,” he said, running a hand through his hair slowly. 

“Potter-” she began, before he cut her off 

“Can you just – call me James? Like a normal person? So maybe I could call you Lily without feeling like I’ve just called my grandmother Dorea?” 

“Why are you talking about your grandmother?” she asked, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. 

“Because that’s what I do when I’m nervous! I projectile vomit stupid stuff I probably shouldn’t say-” he said hurriedly, his hand reaching up to ruffle the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Usually, this particular quirk of his irked her beyond all comprehension, yet for some ungodly reason, cast in the semi-light emitting from the chipper’s condensation-covered window, the action looked almost endearing. 

“I was talking about my _epiglottis_ earlier, I think I can relate,” she interjected, raising her eyebrow. 

The corners of his mouth tilted up into a half smile, and she felt her own copy the movement. The front of his shirt was wrinkled slightly where her hands had twisted the fabric, beads of sweat on his forehead still not evaporated even in the frigid cold night air. 

“I like it when you call me Evans. Makes me want to smile, and hit you all at the one time,” she blurted out. 

“Alright, admittedly not exactly what I was going for-” 

“Everyone calls me Lily, or Lil. You’re the only one that calls me Evans. And I like it, because it’s different. Because you’re different. And whether you’re different because you’re destined to annoy me to death, or because of something else – I don’t really know. But I like when you call me it,” she said quickly, her breath releasing in a quick huff. 

“…you do?” He blinked at her. 

“I do.” 

Silence descended on them, James rocking back onto his heels before shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“And…that’s all you’re going to say?” 

“Would you like me to say anything else?” she countered. 

“Well – Christ, I dunno really.” 

“I’m not going to start spouting poetry at any point, so if that’s what you’re looking for-” 

“No, that’s definitely not what I’m looking for,” he chuckled tiredly “I just – want to know, really. 

“You want to know what?” 

“See – that I don’t even know. Do you – like me? Hate me? Mildly tolerate me? Why’d you kiss me? Things like that.” 

“I-” she began, before biting her lip “Can’t really answer any of those.” 

“Not even why you kissed me?” 

“…possessed by a demon?” 

His chuckle caused a smile to inch its way across her face. 

“You’re something else, Evans.” 

“So I’ve been told.” 

“Any chance you might take pity and be a bit nicer to me now though? Considering you nearly headbutted me.” 

“I most certainly did not you shit-” 

“I know, I know. Keep your knickers on. You’re going to have to learn when I’m teasing you, you know.” 

“Believe me, I usually know. I just don’t find your jokes all that funny. 

“And there you have it, spear right through the heart. Have mercy, my sense of humour is more precious to me than my pride,” he said dramatically, clutching his heart. 

“You’re such a dork, Potter.” 

“So you love to tell me.” He grinned. 

“Am I still hurting your fweelings?” she teased, raising an eyebrow jestingly. 

“Oh, I’m almost used to it by now.” 

“It seems I may end up needing to make it up to you, Potter.” 

“Well if it’s anything like your apologies, I don’t think I want to know,” he laughed, causing Lily to scowl. 

“It was a perfectly sufficient apol-” 

The latter half of her sentence was cut off rather suddenly, Potter swooping down to press his lips against hers gently. His hand found its way to her waist, almost anchoring her to him, the heat from his hand radiating through the thin material of her top. If their first kiss had been rushed and jerky, this one was slow and cautionary, their noses brushing slightly as their heads tilted to accommodate the other – James nudging the frame of his glasses slightly so that they didn’t interfere as they had before. Her hands snaked their way around his neck, fingers gently brushing the closely cropped hair at the nape. 

It wasn’t a kiss that stopped time, or made her weak at the knees. The wafting scent of chips, cheese and curry meant that she was more than aware that they stood in front of a greasy chipper, next door to a grotty pub. His shirt was still damp, and her shoes had begun to pinch, but the sheer warmth that enveloped her as he pulled his arms tighter around her, the little spark in her chest as their mouths moved in almost perfect synchronisation made it feel like an invitation, a tantalisation. A promise of what could be, rather than what was right there and then. 

They broke apart slowly, their faces still almost impossibly close together. James chuckled a little, leaning towards her so their foreheads pressed together. 

“Why did you do that?” she asked, her arms still wrapped loosely around his neck. 

“Well – one, I sort of had to make up for earlier. And two, I could feel you working yourself up into a tizzy. And I think we’ve met our arguments quota for tonight.” He grinned. 

“If you didn’t aggravate me, we wouldn’t argue.” 

“Ah – but if we hadn’t argued, I wouldn’t have gotten to kiss you.” 

“You know – this isn’t going to become a thing,” she said sharply “You’re not allowed to just start kissing me whenever you don’t like what I’m saying.” 

“Oh, never dear Evans. Don’t worry – I enjoy your sparkling wit entirely too much,” he said, the reassuring tone he adopted completely cancelled out by the crinkles around his eyes which told her he was trying very hard not to smile. 

“And here we have a classic example of where I don’t know whether I want to smile, or punch you.” 

“How about we add a third option – you could always kiss me.” 

“I wouldn’t bank on that, if I were you. I’m fully expecting to wake up tomorrow in a cold sweat of fear.” 

“Well – let’s not worry ourselves with bruising my ego right now. How about you and I buy a bag of food poisoning each from this here lovely establishment, and see how long we can sit in each other’s company without arguing, hmm?” He grinned, raising an eyebrow. 

“We won’t make it five minutes without killing each other,” she said, however her hand reached for his, their fingers intertwining as she began to tow him in the direction of the door. 

“A little bit of optimism, yeah Evans? I think we could be on to something good here,” he countered, ducking to kiss Lily’s cheek. 

“Stop that you-” She swatted him away, though her smile was completely destroying any illusion of annoyance. 

“It seems I’ve found my new preferred method of annoying you, Evans.” 

”Oh _joy_.”


End file.
